


Mischief, Magic and Hidden Blades

by Setari



Category: Assassin's Creed, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Assassins & Hitmen, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Frenemies, Gen, Manipulative Dumbledore, Moral Ambiguity, Severus POV, Sirius PoV, keeping secrets
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-03
Updated: 2014-02-08
Packaged: 2018-01-11 02:42:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1167682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Setari/pseuds/Setari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When he was seventeen, Sirius joined a secret organisation dedicated to the destruction of tyrants. No, it wasn't the Order of the Phoenix. It was the Brotherhood of Assassins. Nearly twenty years later he discovers an ally in the most unlikely of people; Severus Snape, who has been an assassin even longer than Sirius has.</p><p>When a Piece of Eden gets lost somewhere in the UK, the pair of them are forced to work together to find it, before it falls into the wrong hands, and the wizarding world's war becomes infinately more dangerous.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sirius

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for my amazing, wonderful friend (she's on [tumblr](http://musicalmalady.tumblr.com)) who deserves far more than my crappy writing, but this much, at least, I can do.

There was nothing more annoying than having someone you deeply respect insinuate that you’re useless, Sirius thought bitterly as he nodded vaguely to the tail end of Dumbledore’s explanation of why he wasn’t allowed to leave the house. Across the table, Snape was smirking nastily at him like the vindictive little shit that he was. Sirius glared back.

“You were saying something about Voldemort’s plans, Albus?” Remus prompted. Sirius slumped in relief as Albus conceded to the change of subject, and he propped his chin on his arms, which were folded across the surface of the kitchen table.

“Yes.” Dumbledore murmured, and Sirius could feel his piercing gaze boring into the top of his head, but he refused to look up. “Voldemort is becoming more and more obsessed with hearing the prophecy and learning the truth of his connection to Harry-”

“Nothing is true.” Sirius muttered petulantly, not really intending to be heard. It was just meant to be his own, private rebellion against Dumbledore’s orders. A reminder that there was another cause that had Sirius’s loyalty, that he wasn’t just Dumbledore’s pet.

But he was heard. Remus, beside him, reached over and gripped his shoulder in a comforting squeeze, but that wasn’t what peaked Sirius’s interest. No, what he focused on was the way Snape startled, just a tiny little jolt, and turned his head to stare, his gaze sharp and shocked, at Sirius. Sirius raised his head a little, frowning in confusion. Movement caught his eye, and he looked down at Snape’s hands where they rested on the table. Where the ring finger of his left hand was curled and hidden.

Sirius jolted upright and _stared_ at Snape. He saw, for a brief moment, his own feelings of dawning realisation and disbelief on Snape’s face, before it went completely blank, and he turned his attention back to Dumbledore, who- shit, had stopped talking. “Something wrong, Sirius?”

“…No, nothing.” Sirius replied, because as much as he respected Albus, there was no way he was telling the old man anything about the Brotherhood. Not only because he wouldn’t understand, but because he also wouldn’t actually trust the man with that knowledge. Despite Dumbledore’s many, many strengths and virtues, there was no denying he was master at manipulation.

But _Snape_ knew. Snape _knew_ about the Brotherhood. Snape was a _member_ of the Brotherhood of Assassins.

Sirius stared at the surface of the table, not even hearing Albus anymore. He couldn’t even begin to comprehend what he’d just discovered. Oftentimes, when he spoke to people, he wondered if they were the sort of people to be interested in joining the Brotherhood. It was rare he found someone who might be, because it took a unique combination of dark and light in someone’s soul for them to truly believe in what the Brotherhood stood for, but he had never, not once, thought of _Snape_ as among those few.

Snape. An assassin. _Snape_.

Sirius shook his head. Despite it’s ominous name, the Brotherhood believed wholeheartedly in the freedom of choice and the autonomy of man. How could Snape believe in that, when he had offered himself up in the service of the Dark Lord? When he blindly followed the orders of a man that – if the Brotherhood had more members in the wizarding world – would be number one on the list of people to assassinate.

And yet, Sirius realised, lifting his eyes to study Snape’s face, he was here. He was sat in the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, offering up information on Voldemort to one of the few men Sirius believed capable of ending that monster once and for all.

 _Dumbledore trusts him_ , he remembered, and for the first time since he’d learned of Snape’s supposed change of allegiance, he actually stopped to think about that. Dumbledore trusted him. Why? Did Dumbledore have a reason, beyond his belief in second chances? Was there something Dumbledore had seen that Sirius had missed? Maybe… maybe it made a little more sense than Sirius liked to admit, Snape being an assassin.

He certainly had the practicality and ruthlessness to kill without remorse those men that infringed on the freedom of others. There was no doubt of the necessary _darkness_ in Snape’s soul, but what about the light? Was he really the sort of person to only kill in the defence of the people? Could he follow that very first rule of the Brotherhood; to stay one’s blade from the flesh of an innocent?

Sirius realised, with a sense of bitter shame, that he didn’t know. And really, he should trust to the judgement of his mentor, the Head of the Brotherhood. If _he_ believed that Snape was worthy of the Brotherhood, then Sirius wouldn’t question him. It didn’t mean he had to like the bastard, though. Trust him? Perhaps he could do that, given time to wrap his brain around the idea, but stop actively loathing him? Not likely.

A modicum of calm returned to Sirius as he finally accepted the fact that, yes, Snape was an assassin, and by that fact, kind of Sirius’s brother. Sirius was well versed in hating one’s brother, though, so he could make peace with that.

Crisis of faith over, Sirius tuned back into the meeting, just in time to hear Dumbledore give his last orders, and declare the meeting over. There was a thunderous scraping of chairs as everyone got to their feet and began filing out of the kitchen. Even those planning to stay for dinner shuffled along to say farewell, except Remus, who lingered beside Sirius with a small frown on his face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah…” Sirius muttered. “I just… _Snape_.” He said emphatically, but quietly.

“I noticed he reacted to what you said.” Remus agreed. “Do you think he-?”

“Mmhm.” Sirius nodded.

“…I’m not surprised.” Remus admitted with a wry smile.

Sirius turned to stare at him. “You’re _not_?” He asked. Remus smiled and shook his head. “ _I am_.” Sirius announced, then groaned and shook his head. Remus laughed at him, patted him on the shoulder, then followed the crowd of Order members out of the kitchen and up the stairs. Sirius wandered after him, still reeling a little.

In the hall, Molly was stood by the door saying goodbye to everyone as they trickled out, and Ron and Harry were peering over the banisters on the first landing. “Lovely to see you, Albus.” Molly was gushing, so Sirius turned to Snape, who was fastening his cloak, but looked up when he noticed Sirius’s attention on him. His eyes narrowed, but Sirius didn’t think he was imagining that he looked less hostile than usual.

Sirius thought for a moment about what to say, but in the end, he just set his jaw and thrust out his hand. Snape’s face remained mostly blank, but for just a moment, Sirius thought he saw shock flicker through his eyes. Then, cautiously, Severus took his hand and shook it. It was brief, and both of them gripped too tight and let go too quickly, but it happened.

Then Snape turned to go, and Sirius realised Dumbledore was staring at them with a frown on his face. Sirius frowned right back, still very unhappy with his old headmaster. There was a moment of tension, which broke as Dumbledore sighed wearily, smiling sadly, and turned away, to step out of the house and disapparate.

Meanwhile, Molly was beaming wider than usual at Snape. “Are you sure you won’t stay for dinner, Severus? I always make far too much, you know.” Molly enthused. Snape gave her a look that was both dryly amused and very, very weary. Like the idea of him staying any longer than absolutely necessary was utterly laughable.

Sirius felt something like guilt squirm in his gut, followed swiftly by irritated resignation. He wanted to groan. “You should stay for dinner.” He gritted out instead, reluctant to actually say it, but even more unwilling to let the moment pass.

Everyone turned to stare at him in shock. There was a muffled yelp from the first floor landing. “What?” Snape asked, shocked and a little repulsed. That made Sirius feel better.

“Stay for dinner.” It was actually easier to get out the second time.

Snape stared at him, eyes blazing with some kind of inner conflict that Sirius didn’t want to analyse at all. “Why?” Snape asked eventually. Sirius managed not to roll his eyes at that, but it was hard, and clearly his exasperation showed on his face, because the next moment Snape was glaring at him.

“Because as much as I hate you – and I really, really do – we’re allies, and you shouldn’t be unwelcome here.” Sirius gritted out. If Snape didn’t get the hidden meaning, that this house was a Sanctuary, a place for any and every assassin to hide and recover if they needed it, then Sirius would forever mock him for his stupidity.

But of course, Snape did get it, and understanding washed over his features. As Sirius mourned the loss of the potential mocking, Snape spoke. “The feeling is mutual, Black.” He sneered, but then he turned to Molly. “It seems like I will be staying for dinner, after all, Molly.” He acquiesced stiffly.

“ _What?!_ ”

All the adults in the hall turned their heads upwards, staring up at where the twins, Hermione and Ginny had joined Harry and Ron on the landing. “Ronald Weasley! Don’t be rude!” Molly hissed crossly.

The kids all shared horrified looks, and Sirius sympathised with them. “But it’s _Snape_.” The twins protested in unison.

“Fred! George!” Molly snapped, horrified and furious. “I raised you better than this!”

“Sirius, help!” George begged.

“Kick him out!” Fred pleaded

Molly swelled with indignation. Sirius winced against the impending explosion, and Molly didn’t disappoint “Sirius was the one who invited Severus to stay for dinner, and if the _rest_ of you can’t behave like mature adults at dinner, you won’t be getting any at all!” She snapped, enraged.

Which was when the portrait of Sirius’s dear old mum decided to make an entrance, over the startled, desperate cries from upstairs. The curtains flew open, and she took to her usual screeching about half-bloods and filth. Sirius closed his eyes, feeling like something very heavy had just settled on his shoulders. He didn’t even have the energy to be angry any more. Without a word, he turned to the portrait and helped Remus haul the stubborn curtains shut.

Remus shot him a look of concern once Walburga was safe and silent behind her curtains again, but Sirius just shook his head, unwilling to even begin indulging that particular strand of emotion and angst. He returned to the kitchen to finish cleaning up the odds and ends still scattered about after the meeting, and was followed by Molly.

“Sirius?” She asked, while taking down a couple of pots and pans and lighting up the stove. Sirius grunted an acknowledgement. “I just wanted to say I think it was a good thing you did, earlier.” Molly told him, though she spoke to the stove, and Sirius appreciated her tact in not forcing eye-contact for a conversation like this.

“He’s still a sneaky, slimy, Slytherin snake.” Sirius grumbled.

Molly hummed, not entirely approvingly. “Still.” She said firmly, and Sirius relented a little.

“…Yeah, I- I can’t exactly say I trust him, because I don’t. But… but I’m willing to _try_ , because I trust- Dumbledore’s judgement.” Sirius explained, even though his tone darkened on Dumbledore’s name. It wasn’t Dumbledore’s judgement he was trusting, but he couldn’t tell Molly that.

Molly beamed. “I’m glad.” She told him sincerely, and Sirius managed a rueful sort of grimace in return. He was surprised to find that Molly seemed to accept this as a ceasefire on their ongoing spat over Harry, and she chattered amiably at him while she cooked. Sirius didn’t reply beyond the occasional grunt or monosyllabic question, but that didn’t seem to bother her too much. Soon enough Molly sent him off to fetch everyone for dinner. Remus, Tonks and Arthur were in the drawing room, and Sirius got two odd looks along with the confirmation that they’d be right down.

The next room he stuck his head into was the library, because there was light spilling out from under the door, and he found Snape with his nose buried in a huge, dusty leather tome. “Molly says dinner’s ready.” Sirius told him bluntly.

“I’ll be along in a moment.” Snape acknowledged, closing the book and moving to carefully place it back on the shelf. Sirius turned to go. “Black.”

“What?” Sirius snapped.

He turned and met black eyes glittering with wrath with a steely glare of his own. Snape took a deep breath and closed his eyes briefly, obviously fighting for composure. “Earlier, you implied this place was a Sanctuary for the Brotherhood.” He stated.

“Yeah…?” Sirius prompted.

“How can it be, when Albus is the secret keeper?” Snape asked.

Now, Sirius was beginning to understand where Snape was going with this. “I didn’t tell him about the Brotherhood, if that’s what you’re asking.” Sirius told him, and for just a moment, Snape looked surprised. Sirius wasn’t sure whether to feel proud, or insulted. He settled on both. “I’m not stupid, you know. Telling Dumbledore about the Brotherhood would be like putting absinthe in front of an alcoholic.”

Along with surprised, Snape was also looking grudgingly impressed. “Then how?” He repeated.

“Dumbledore isn’t the only secret keeper.” Sirius told him.

“Ah, I see.” Snape nodded, as though satisfied, and swept past Sirius and out of the library without another word.

Rolling his eyes, Sirius pulled a face at Snape’s back, then took the next flight of stairs two at a time, which brought him to the landing with Harry and Ron’s room, as well as Ginny and Hermione’s. Sirius knocked on the boys’ door first, and was glad he did, because it turned out the six of them – twins included – had gathered there.

The moment he opened the door, Harry’s eyes found his with a pleading, betrayed expression. “Sirius, why would you invite _Snape_ to stay for dinner?!” He asked.

Sirius let out a heavy sigh, and stepped more fully into the room. “Because, Harry, while _I_ don’t trust him, I do trust the judgement of those older and wiser than myself.” He said, being deliberately vague. He had made a promise to himself when Harry was born, that he would never tell the child a lie. He had reaffirmed it with much more dedication when he realised just how much Dumbledore planned to keep him in the dark. But he couldn’t speak plainly in front of a bunch of teenagers who may or may not know how to be discreet.

“You _can’t_ mean _Dumbledore_.” Harry spat out, suddenly angry instead of hurt.

“No, I don’t.” Sirius replied simply, drawing Harry up short.

“Then who…?” Ron asked, looking completely baffled.

Sirius barked out a laugh. “Good to know I have some secrets left.” He said cheerfully. “Anyway, dinners ready, so get a move on.” He added, waving them all towards the door. Ginny was the first to go, followed by the twins, and then by Ron and Hermione, who only left after Harry had gestured for them to go.

“Sirius…” Harry said slowly. “What’s going on?”

“There’s more than one organisation that opposes dictators and tyrants, Harry.” Sirius told him. “Snape and I are both members of another one, and I trust that leader’s judgement much, much more than I trust Dumbledore’s.”

“Enough to trust _Snape_?” Harry questioned.

“Enough to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Sirius agreed, pulling a face.

Harry looked thoughtful, though still slightly annoyed. His eyebrows were furrowed like he was trying to work out what Sirius’s angle was in all of this. “I don’t get it.” He said finally, shrugging helplessly.

Sirius gave Harry a conspiratorial grimace. “Neither do I, Harry.” He admitted, and when Harry laughed, he smiled back.


	2. Severus

It had been naïve to believe that Molly would allow him to suffer through only one dinner at Grimmauld Place, Severus decided. It had been a highly unpleasant experience, and despite Molly, Remus and, surprisingly, Tonks trying to ease the tension, the entire hour had been spent in an atmosphere that was wound as tight as a bowstring. Severus had hoped that that would be the end of it. Black had extended the invitation of Sanctuary, and he had accepted. Now, they could go back to hating each other in peace.

He had been so very wrong.

It happened the very next Order meeting, five days after the last, as they were gathering up their things, tidying away the documents they’d used, and preparing to leave. Instead of her customary, generic invitation to dinner for anyone who might want to stay – while giving Severus pointed, encouraging looks – Molly instead decided to say “You will be staying for dinner again, won’t you, Severus?”

Black looked up, just as startled and alarmed as Severus felt. “No, Molly. I’m sorry, but-” He began, already spinning out an acceptable excuse in his head when he was interrupted.

“It was so nice to have you for dinner last time. You spend far too much time in those dungeons of yours, you know. It wouldn’t hurt you to spend some time in pleasant company, or get a good meal every once in a while.” Molly insisted. Severus raised an eyebrows, surprised by her sudden aggressive line of persuasion. She had never been so blunt or, frankly, insulting, in her attempts to get him to stay for dinner before.

Severus shot a glare at Black, because this was all his fault. “ _Pleasant_ company?” He questioned sarcastically.

Molly pursed her lips at him. “I thought you and Sirius were getting along better now.” She reprimanded gently. “And as for the boys, well, they’ll just have to learn that they can’t get their way by being _rude_.” She huffed irritably.

Severus thought, perhaps uncharitably, that she could stand to learn that lesson herself. “I assure you, Molly, that Black and I hate each other just as much as we ever did.” He told her dryly. Molly frowned in disappointment, and Severus sighed. “And I really do have a lot of marking to catch up on.” He added.

“You need to take a break, sometimes, Severus, or you’re going to work yourself into the ground.” Lupin piped up, and Severus turned one of his more potent glares on the werewolf. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Black doing the same thing. Lupin bit back a smile, eyes twinkling in a disturbingly Dumbledore-ish fashion, and raised his hands as though in surrender.

“And you do look awfully stressed, dear.” Molly added. Severus realised suddenly with a swooping sensation of horror that he was being _mothered_ by the bloody woman. She was only barely a decade older than he was, and still…! “You could do with a hearty meal or twelve, I think.” She added pointedly.

“You’d best just do what she says, Severus.” Arthur added, sounding wearily amused. “She’s not going to take no for an answer.”

Severus eyed Molly, and the determined, steely look in her eye, and realised that her husband was telling the truth. “This will be the _last time_.” He conceded with a snarl, dropping back down into his chair with ill grace.

Molly beamed at him and patted his hand. “Of course it will, dear.” She agreed, and then bustled off to start cooking dinner. The remaining Order members who weren’t staying trickled out, muttering quietly amongst themselves, while Arthur, Lupin, Tonks, Minerva and Sirius remained seated.

There was something of an awkward silence in the kitchen for a few moments, while Severus glared and Sirius glowered and the others exchanged looks. The Minerva drew herself up, turned to Severus, and asked him about when he was planning to cover transformative potions with his sixth years, so that she could cover forced transfiguration at the same time. Severus accepts the distraction and they end up discussing the relative merits of forcing a person to transform through spells VS through potions.

At some point, Ginny Weasley wandered in, trailed by Granger’s cat, Crookshanks, and slid into a chair beside her father while throwing mistrustful looks at Severus. Crookshanks leapt up onto Black’s lap, and the man absently stroked him while, still, glowering at the wall opposite.

The stupid man had been grumpy and petulant through the whole meeting. Severus did appreciate that being forced to return to your childhood home wasn’t pleasant, but really, Black was being a complete _child_ about it, and Severus really had no patience for the man’s theatrics. Black was deliberately digging his heels in because he hadn’t got his way, and it made Severus want to hex him blind. But he didn’t, because they were _allies_ now.

Lupin joined in the conversation, reminiscing about the Marauder’s adventures with attempting the animagus transformation. Severus would admit, at least in the privacy of his own mind, that the process had fascinated him for years, but he’d never had the time to pursue it. Transfiguration wasn’t one of his strong points – like it had been for Black and Potter – but the potions required to complete the transformation were some of the more interesting ones to brew. Getting some insight into the process was enjoyable, and certainly, when Black came out of his little rain cloud of gloom and doom long enough to share a few anecdotes, informative. Listening to Minerva chewing Black out for his past recklessness was just a highly entertaining bonus, really.

A delicious smell began to fill the kitchen, and it drew the other children down into the kitchen before Molly had to send someone to fetch them. They all looked highly disconcerted to see Severus there, and even more so by the animated conversation he was sharing with Minerva, Lupin and Black. Although, calling Black animated was akin to calling the ocean dry. Minerva and Lupin were the ones who really carried the conversation, but Severus wasn’t still and silent. There was definitely passion in his voice – the subject of potions had always brought that out in him – and he had picked up the habit of talking with his hands during his year of study in Italy for his Potions Mastery.

The food began hitting the table, but the conversation barely paused around it. That insufferable Granger girl joined in with their conversation eagerly, but the rest of them wound up talking about Quidditch. Dinner dragged on, most people eating slowly in favour of talking, until it was over an hour later when the twins and the young Weasley girl left the table, followed, after a few minutes, by Minerva.

Severus was still talking, albeit less comfortably, with Lupin when Molly got up to start the dishes. A moment later, the conversation was cut short as Tonks rose to leave, and Lupin was thoroughly distracted. Severus sneered inwardly, wondering how long it would be before they heard a ‘happy announcement’. Biting his tongue on a scathing remark, he stood as well, murmured a farewell to Molly, and headed for the stairs.

He was in the process of pulling on his cloak when a small falcon swept down from upstairs. There was an open window in the attic of the house, for owl access, Severus knew, so it wasn’t overly strange, but what was strange was that the hawk was familiar.

Without thinking, Severus raised his left arm, and the hawk landed there, claws biting into his skin even through the layers of fabric. There was a cylindrical leather pouch attached to the bird’s back, with the Brotherhood’s symbol stamped in red upon the lid, which undoubtedly contained a missive from the Brotherhood. However, when Severus went to open it, the bird snapped its beak at his fingers and fluffed up its feathers in an aggressive display.

The letter wasn’t for Severus then. In that case, it had to be for Black. Sighing, Severus reluctantly headed back down into the kitchen, the falcon still perched on his forearm. Upon reaching the doorway, everyone looked up, and went still in surprise at the sight of the impressive bird. “A letter for you, Black.” Severus stated blankly, carrying the bird over to the man.

There was something strange on Black’s face. Surprise was there, and trepidation, which Severus honestly expected, considering this missive was likely a job, but there was also something that looked suspiciously like the light of hope in his eyes, which was not what Severus had expected at all. But then, Black clearly did want to get out of the house. Oh, Dumbledore was going to be furious if he ever found out about this. Severus did feel a little guilty about that, but not nearly enough to try to stop Black leaving.

Black reached out and unfastened the clasp of the pouch, which the bird allowed without a single move, and Sirius drew out a tightly furled scroll. The falcon let out a piercing shriek, then took off, claws scratching along Severus’s arm as it left it’s perch and swooped out of the room.

“I didn’t know falcons could be post birds?” Harry said curiously.

Black glanced up from the scroll he was holding to look at his godson. “It’s not common, but it’s possibly. The charms cast on them hold better with owls, no one’s sure why, but if a falcon takes to it well, they’re some of the best post birds. Expensive, though.” He explained, before going back to the scroll, unfurling it, and reading it over.

Severus watched him scan the parchment for a moment, before reminding himself of the grading he really needed to get on with, and turned to leave. Black followed him, but instead of stopping in the hallway, he continued on, further upstairs. Severus was quite content to ignore him, until he heard Black’s footsteps halt, and then the man called back to him. “Hey, Snape?”

“What?” Severus replied sharply, not looking at Black.

There was a long enough silence that Severus looked up impatiently, intending to chew him out, but he paused when he caught the expression on Black’s face. He looked like he’d bitten into a lemon. “…I could use some back up on this.” Black admitted.

Severus took a moment to digest that. “Are you asking me to accompany you?” He asked.

“…Yes.” Sirius gritted out.

“Can’t handle it by yourself?” Severus mocked.

“I need a decoy.” Black spat back viciously. “And hey, if I get in trouble, I might as well drag you down with me.” He added, less angry and more triumphant.

Severus rolled his eyes. But as much as he didn’t like Black, it had been such a very, very long time since he’d been given a job by the Brotherhood. Years, in fact. And he missed it. He missed the thrill of the hunt and the satisfaction of sinking a blade into someone’s flesh. Especially when that someone so deserved it. “I suppose someone ought to go along to make sure you don’t mess up.” He commented dryly, tugging on his cloak. “When are you planning to get started?”

“Dusk, probably. I’ll floo you. You’ll be at Hogwarts, I suppose?” Black asked.

Severus thought for a moment. He was, in fact, staying at Spinner’s End at the moment, but he didn’t particularly want to invite Black into his home. But pretending he was still in his quarters at Hogwarts wouldn’t work. It was too obvious he hadn’t been staying there. And anyway, his Assassin’s tools were all stored at his home, rather than Hogwarts. “7 Spinner’s End, actually.” Severus corrected. “Call before you just drop in.”

“Sure. Just don’t get in my way.” Black commented.

“Why would I bother? You fail perfectly well on your own merits.” Severus replied, and saw, out of the corner of his eye, Black flicking a V at him as he vanished upstairs. Within seconds, Tonks and Lupin appeared, the werewolf helping Tonks into her coat. Severus left them to their clumsy flirting, and disapparated from the top step of Grimmauld Place.

He reappeared on the corner of Spinner’s End and set off down the street. The pang that went through him being here, in this place, was as familiar as his own heartbeat, and he paid it just as much attention. Number 7 was one of only three houses on the street that weren’t boarded up, and certainly the only one that looked even moderately well looked after. It was a depressing place, inside and out, and it suited Severus just fine.

After unlocking and opening his front door, Severus removed his travelling cloak and tossed it carelessly over the back of his favourite – only – armchair. Then he drew his wand and wordlessly lit a fire in the grate, and sank down into the armchair with a soundless sigh. Slowly, warmth from the fire began to seep into the room, and Severus relaxed further.

Eventually, Severus decided he really ought to start getting ready, so he lifted himself out of the chair and headed upstairs. There were four rooms in the upstairs portion of the house, including a small bathroom, Severus’s room, the room that had once been his parent’s but was now his potions lab, and finally, a box-room that now stored all of his assassin’s gear.

Unlocking the door – he always kept it locked, even though no one other than him had been up here since his father died – Severus slipped into the tiny room and began redressing. Once upon a time, assassin robes had been fancy, complicated things, but in this day and age, the uniform, as always, reflected the fashions of the time. It was, after all, designed to help the wearer blend in, not stand out.

Severus’s own outfit consisted of comfortable black boots and sturdy black trousers, a grey undershirt, and a knee-length black hooded coat that was double-buttoned down the front to the waist, where it flared open, for easy access to the concealed pouches on the belt. The pouches and pockets he filled with useful tools of the trade; everything from garrotte wire, to tracker bugs and listening devices, to veritaserum and polyjuice. Pushing up the coat sleeves, he strapped the most iconic assassin’s tool to his left forearm, the hidden blade and it’s specially fitted bracer. On his other forearm went an Auror-standard wand holster and he slid his wand into it. And finally, into the holster against his thigh – neatly concealed by the tail of his coat – went a simple handgun.

He was in the process of double checking every zip, buckle and button when there was a knock at the door. Severus continued his checks as he descended the stairs, and he was done by the time he opened the door for Black.

Black was dressed in a much more muggle-ish outfit, in Severus’s opinion, with white trainers and pale blue, sturdy jeans. He had the same assortment of pouches and the like on his belt, but they were half concealed by the hem of his white, hooded jacket. The jacket was zipped up, with Black’s hands hidden in the pockets, and the hood was up, underneath which there was a dark red mask covering the lower half of Black’s face. “Snape.” Black greeted.

“Black.” Severus returned, stepping back to allow the man inside. As he walked inside, Black held out the little scroll that had his mission outlined on it. “You should have burned that.” Severus told him, taking it and looking it over.

“Thought you ought to read it before I did.” Black replied, and Severus nodded absently.

According to the scroll, there was an up and coming politician who was suspected of being bribed by the new face of the templars, Abstergo. The job was to investigate, verify that he was being bribed, and then assassinate him. Once Severus had the details memorised, he drew his wand with a flick of his wrist and set it alight. It burned to nothing in his hand, and he tipped the ashes into the fire. “Shall we go then?”

Under his hood, Black’s eyes flashed. “Lets.” He agreed, and in unison, they disapparated.


End file.
